Through Your Eyes
by MirandaTam42
Summary: Les Mis. Takes place sometime before Lamarque's death. Enjolras says one night that he wants to see the France he dreams of and Grantaire decides to show it to him. Lots of Enjolras and Grantaire in here, mostly Grantaire. Also includes the rest of the ABC. Explores R and his art and is slightly slashy. E/R paint painting grantjolras enjoltaire Reviews are loved and cherished.


"You look tired, Enjolras," observed Grantaire. The candles were flickering lowly as most students had left by this point and it was just Enjolras left as he stared out the window and Grantaire because he didn't realize the meeting had ended an hour ago. "Are you alright?"

"First Joly and now you, I'm FINE!" snapped Enjolras.

"Come now, I haven't even said anything offensive to you yet. You usually save your energy until you need it when dealing with me, so I know something must not be right." Grantiare pulled up a chair by Enjolras and said, "Spit it out or I'll bother you all week about it."

Enjolras looked like he wasn't going to give in until he sighed and shifted himself to a more relaxed position facing Grantaire. "I have no doubt that this revolution is the right thing to do, yet it wears down on my soul, R. I am tired and yet our flight to the possible barricades is not near yet. I know my words are true, for I would not lead others astray but I am exhausted. I simply long for a glimpse of this France that I dream of and work so hard for."

"Ah."

"Now isn't the time for your criticism. I know exactly what you think of my ideas. It doesn't help me in the slightest and nor does it help you to be so close minded."

Grantaire sighed and looked upon Enjolras's weary face. He would give anything to see him looking better and happier and he wished the man would stop thinking that everything that came of out Grantaire's mouth was automatically negative. "You say you want to see the France you dream of, yes?"

"Yes yes that's what I said. Forget it."

"No, I'll show you this France." Grantaire got up and strode out of the café before Enjolras could fuss or ask him what he was doing. In all honesty, Grantaire figured that this idea he had was a remarkably stupid one, but that could mean that Enjolras would like it all the more.

Grantaire made his way through dim streets and sprinkles of rain back to his apartment. He fumbled about with the key in the dark but eventually got the door to open. The door swung out to reveal a messy living room and with an even messier rest of the place to compete with. Sketches, pencils, charcoal and other art supplies were lovingly strewn about wherever he'd last needed them around his living room and various beer and wine bottles, all empty, were also scattered around the place. He sighed and stared at the state of his work area.

He was going to make something for Enjolras, art at that, so he'd better so it sober. First things first, this place needed some cleaning. The empty bottles were cleared out and he organized and put away his art supplies so he could effectively find them later. Normally he'd be in bed by now and his body was certainly feeling it. Grantaire set up some coffee to brew and dug out some paper and charcoal.

Enjolras wanted to see France the way he dreamed it should be. He would give him just that.

The coffee's aroma helped Grantaire's mind snap into focus as he stared at the piece of paper. How exactly does one illustrate a political movement? Bright colors would be one thing, to show the mood. If Enjolras's plan worked there would be no beggars and no hunger out on the street. Not everybody would be rich, but everyone would at least be able to live comfortably and not starve.

Grantaire thought of one of the busier streets near the center of Paris he walked through day to day and sketched it out. On top of the highest building near the center of the picture he drew a flagpole coming off the top, bearing the French flag and also Enjolras's red flag beneath it. He could think of a plethora of random people whose faces came to mind to wander the streets and not look starved and he got to work on it. A few minutes into outlining an older woman who lived near him it occurred to him that he ought to throw some of his friends into this painting for amusement. Bonus points if any of them ever saw this and spotted themselves.

A wide grin broke out in Grantaire's face and he jogged into his still messy bedroom.

Nobody knew this, because it would be highly embarrassing, but he had quite the stash of drawings and a few paintings of his revolutionary friends in a large desk drawer. Whenever bored or uninspired by landscapes or mythological scenes he would sit and imagine one of their faces and sketch them out. Over half of these happened to be of Enjolras and all but a couple paintings were also of Enjolras.

Grantaire carried his pile out to the living room and curled up with his references near his brightest candle. Everyone was drawn from memory and everyone was also drawn inside of the ABC Café. He flipped through sketches of Courfeyrac, Enjolras, Bahorel, Enjolras, Jehan writing poetry and Courferac reading over his shoulder, Enjolras, Feuilly, more Enjolras, another Enjolras, Combeferre, of course more Enjolras, a couple group pictures with two or more members of the group, and finally a picture of Joly at the bottom in which he was making a face and sticking his tongue out at a spoon. Even though he was the one who drew it the Joly picture always made him chuckle whenever he saw it.

He returned to his planning sketch and drew in some of his friends into the crowd, except for Enjolras. Grantaire's coffee finished and he made himself a cup while pondering over where Enjolras should be.

If he really pulled this off, the people would love him. He ought to have a monument on every street corner.

Hell, even if this doesn't work he should still have a monument on every street corner.

Knowing Enjolras, he wouldn't want to be recognized much for this or held in honor, as much as he deserved it. He wanted everyone to be equal and would probably wince every time he walked by a statue of himself.

Too bad, because this was Grantaire's picture and if he wanted to make him a monument then he would. Right where this street forked, underneath the flags flying above, he sketched out a small but very accurate Enjolras on a platform with the same light and passion that he had at every meeting. Looking at it now, Grantaire wasn't sure how else he would have drawn him anyways. An Enjolras without a revolution is an odd thought, and an Enjolras without a passion was not something he wanted to draw, much less think about.

Other members of the Friends of the ABC were drawn interspersed through the crowded streets, usually in groups of two or three. Grantaire didn't include himself because as a rule he only painted things he considered worth looking at.

Grantaire spent awhile perfecting his outline and yawned loudly. He'd been home for a few hours and his body had had enough of this 'being awake' business. He set his pad of paper down, stretched out on the sofa, and fell asleep within minutes.

When an art project had him working for more than a day his whole life became a blur of painting, sleeping, and rarely even eating. Grantaire woke up the next morning and got to work right away, tacking down a large piece of canvas three feet tall and getting out his paints and brushes and other supplies. Alcohol never even crossed his mind as he prepared the canvas for paint and sketched and marked out the scene he'd drawn the night before. All of the windows in the apartment were thrown wide open and even the door was opened a bit to let the place have ventilation. His palette became home to many colors as he laid down layers of oil over the next few days. Light blues with lavender tints became the early morning sky, greys and dull browns became building and street details, vibrant greens mixed with soft yellows partnered with all colors became plants hanging in baskets with flowers in full bloom, robust reds showed up in Enjolras's jacket (the statue would likely be bronze or stone in reality but he couldn't resist giving him color) and the hanging flags, the crowds were a mix of muted colors with a few bright ones here and there. Many more people than just the student group were wearing the red, white, and blue pins that had become their symbol and not a single person was seen to be begging. He detailed everything and everyone more than he would have normally done on such a large piece and tiredly ended with giving Jehan bed hair that he liked too much to fix. Once again he fell into the sofa and slept, this time looking forward to looking at his nearly finished work with a mind that was truly awake and perhaps ready to put finishing touches on it in the morning if needed.

He rose up from the couch once daylight shone in through the window and took another look at his piece from a work point of view of what needed to be done. He added a few more details, made the flags have even better shading on their folds and was satisfied.

Grantaire at last stopped painting. He closed his eyes and turned around, taking in deep breaths and letting his mind relax. The effect of the painting would hit him head on when he turned around and he would see it as anyone else would. He took a couple of steps away from the painting, opened his eyes and looked at it from a little ways away as someone would see it as if they were looking for the first time.

A gasp rose up out of him.

This was the world Enjolras dreamed of. And now, staring at it, at this world in the light of a new day with the flags showing their colors in the breeze, Grantaire finally understood Enjolras. The picture was as beautiful as he could have ever hoped and he felt his heartbeat quicken from longing to see it in person, and not just in oils. This was something worth fighting for. The people needed this, they needed what Enjolras dedicated himself to so badly it made Grantaire want to sob. Outside of his door was a country filled with misery, but Enjolras could see a way to end that misery. This is what he could see, and now, at long last and far too late in his opinion, Grantaire could see it too.

Grantaire picked out his favorite paintbrush and dabbed it in the pure black paint on his palette and signed a small 'R' on the bottom right hand corner over someone's rooftop. Now it was officially done and for once he felt truly satisfied with how his work turned out.

He grabbed a stool and sat in front of his painting to stare at it some more. His art had never affected him like this before. Sure, it made him feel pride on a few occasions or maybe warmth from looking at pictures of people he cared about, but never before had a piece truly taught him something like this. Perhaps this was how Jehan felt when a poem turned into something so much better and powerful than himself. Art turning itself into something truly fantastic on its own with the artist as a guide is rarely planned or preventable, and it was a reminder as to why Grantaire had taken up painting in the first place.

The next meeting was tomorrow and it Grantaire thought that everyone should see it. He left the house for the first time in a few days and celebrated with a breakfast of eggs and toast at a café and made a conscious effort to not drink anything alcoholic with it. If he really wanted Enjolras to be impressed, he'd better show up sober. The withdrawal symptoms were likely going to kick in very soon (he was surprised they hadn't already) but he could wait to pick up another bottle. He had to, to make this whole thing worth it.

Grantaire headed back to his apartment and felt the familiar beginnings of a withdrawal headache. Yep, here we go. The throbs in his head got stronger and stronger and his eyes were watering by the time he got home.

He kicked the door open and made sure to shut and lock it as carefully as he could through his blurred vision. The windows were still open so the oil could dry a bit before tomorrow and he stumbled into his bedroom for the first time in days to collapse on his bed and not the couch. The cool outdoor air made him shiver and he curled up under his blankets and started sobbing.

A bottle of wine sounded wonderful right about now. It could stop some of the pain, and he'd feel so much better for it.

On the other hand, he needed to make Enjolras see how much he cared, how much effort he had put into this piece and how hard he was trying to do something right for once in his sight. His head pulsed and he felt his entire body shake. Normally he would have given up by now and drank something but the thought of seeing Enjolras's disappointed scowl kept him from it. If his mind was serving him right, this was his fourth day sober. Completely on accident, to be honest, but if he'd gotten this far he could make it another day. Five days sober wouldn't sound impressive to anyone tomorrow, but it had to be better than showing up drunk.

His throat burned for a few moments and he dry retched. Nothing happened except that his throat felt even worse and he settled back into his crying, although it had lessened over the past few minutes. Grantaire couldn't remember feeling sleepier than this in his entire life but sleep took its dear time coming to him and when it did he felt less like he went to sleep and more like he blacked out.

Grantaire woke up the next day to find out he'd been out for over twenty four hours and was probably late for the meeting already. He scrambled out of bed and was relieved to find that his headache was greatly diminished but that the ache seemed to have moved down to his stomach where it complained about the emptiness.

The café had good enough food; he could wait a few minutes. He pulled out a large, flat box from beneath his bed and carried it out to the living room. Grantaire carefully slid his painting into it and collapsed his easel so he could display the painting on it. He picked everything up and left his apartment as quickly as it could without damaging anything.

He strode to the café as quickly as he could and grimaced at the thought of being late for the first time. Sure he could be rude or obnoxious and usually drunk, but he was always on time.

"We don't know when we'll be forced to fight, or when our dear Lamarque shall fall from his illness, but we must be prepared! If we are to win this fight, we must be strong not only in spirit but in numbers, and we must not be late for meetings," growled Enjolras when Grantaire stumbled in fifteen minutes late. "Found a new way to interrupt, have we?"

"Give him a break, Enjolras," murmured Courfeyrac.

Grantaire set his box and easel down, hurt by Enjolras's comment and wishing he could run away if he was in such a bad mood. "I'm sorry, but I brought you all something. It took me some time getting here because I slept late and I couldn't risk it getting damaged."

"What?" Enjolras went from irritated to perplexed.

"Um, the last time we had a meeting you said afterwards that you wanted to see the France you dreamed of, I said that I'd show it to you even though I don't think you believed me. Here it is."

Grantaire carefully opened the painting box and pulled his picture out of it while Jehan came over and set up the easel at the front of the room. His jitters kicked in again, partly nerves and partly hunger, as he carried the painting to the easel and set it on. He stood by it and fidgeted. "Yeah. There it is."

Grantaire braced himself as he watched everyone's eyes look at the flags, arguably the focal point of the piece, and then move down to the crowded street and the Enjolras statue.

"It's beautiful," breathed Jehan. "The colors and details are so crisp and bright and wonderful that I can forgive you for my hair."

"Why haven't you shown us your art before, R? This is gorgeous!" exclaimed Feuilly.

"Yeah, you should stick to your art if you like it so much 'taire, you're really good!" Joly wrapped an arm around Grantaire's waist and gave him a warm smile that was so sweet Grantaire thought he might faint.

"Unlike Jehan, I appreciate the hair you gave me and I'll cherish what I have left forever," said Bossuet.

"I agree, this is spectacular! Although, it looks like even in your perfect world I'm stepping on someone's foot," said Courfeyrac. Everyone in the room laughed and Grantaire blushed.

"Enjolras?" Grantaire whispered after everyone else had finished complimenting his art.

Enjolras was staring at the painting, his eyes wandering around it but always returning to the statue of himself. "Why did you make a statue of me?"

"Well, I almost didn't because I know you wouldn't accept one, but the people would want one. If this whole thing works the people will love you. You'll be remembered as the one who fought so hard and gained them the sacred rights they needed. A statue is the least I could do."

"But why aren't I down in the crowd with everyone else? Why aren't you there either?"

Courfeyrac chuckled and said, "Remember, this is a perfect world. I'm sure you two had other things to do."

Grantaire's face flushed scarlet as the room filled with embarrassed giggles. "No, I just don't like drawing myself and I thought it'd be weird to have two Enjolrases in the same picture."

"I love it." Enjolras smiled and continued, "I think you've done better with this painting in capturing our goal and showing passion and beauty in what we're doing than I have in my speeches."

Grantaire stared at Enjolras, awestruck. "That-that's too high of praise for me to receive, Enjolras."

"No it isn't. Tell me, can you look upon this and not feel remotely moved?"

"After I painted this, I think I finally understood your point and what we're doing here and why this is worth so much, but I thought that it was because I was the artist and therefore I'd have a connection with it. I didn't think you guys would take it so well."

"What, do you think we're blind? Of course we love it!" Joly affectionately fluffed Grantaire's hair and said, "Even when you're sober you can be awfully silly."

"You're sober?" asked Enjolras, whose turn it was to be awestruck.

"Shit, I thought you might be too drunk to remember my comment about you two," groaned Courfeyrac. "No chance of that then."

Enjolras rolled his eyes at Courfeyrac and walked up to Grantaire. "I'm really proud of you. I don't know why you hadn't shown us your art before, but I can say now that I'm very impressed with it and your current sobriety, which I suspect has something to do with painting, yes?"

"Yeah, this is my fifth day sober, and it was mostly on accident."

"You have withdrawal jitters. Let's get you some food," said Joly. He guided Grantaire over to the counter and bought him food while Enjolras continued to look at the painting.

Grantaire ate a fresh croissant and a bunch of grapes while Joly interrogated him on how he was feeling.

"Look Joly, I'm probably going to head home later and drink some beer so it's no problem if I'm going through withdrawals now. I'll be drunk again in no time."

"You're doing so well though, R! You could use this opportunity to get away from your habit."

"I've tried Joly, I really have, but it's too hard. I've never succeeded and I've come to accept that I never will."

Joly draped an arm around Grantaire's shoulder and said, "Doesn't it feel nice though, to see and experience the world clearly? I know that you've developed quite a tolerance to alcohol so that it doesn't affect you as much as it would me, but surely life seems less hazy. You can eat normally, feel more focused, I mean, that painting wouldn't look as wonderful as it is if you hadn't been sober while making it."

Grantaire gave Joly a sad smile. "Some things are clear and worth staying sober for. I know that. But there are other things I'd rather let drown than have to experience."

"Like what?"

"Don't get me started or I'll order some wine right now."

"Alright." Joly lightly patted him on the back and said, "Take care though, alright? Will you try for me?"

"I will. But don't get your hopes up."

Joy left him and Enjolras took Joly's seat beside Grantaire. "Where would you like your painting to go?"

"I've missed some days of art class; I figured I'd bring it into school where I could get a grade for it and where it'd be safe from ransacking if one of us manages to piss someone important enough off."

"Good idea. I was wondering if you have plans tonight."

Grantaire allowed himself a good stare at Enjolras before replying, "No. Why? You want to spend time with me? Really?"

"Yeah. I want to see more of your art."

Grantaire thought of all of those pictures of Enjolras and blushed. "I'd love to have you over. Would you come with me to the school so I can drop my painting off?"

"Of course." Enjolras stood up and called out, "The meeting's over! I think we can all agree that Grantaire's painting is far more effective than what I was going to say. We're going to take it down to the university where it'll be safe and where he can redeem his grade a bit."

Enjolras helped Grantaire get the painting back into the box and the two of them carried it out and down the streets of Paris to the university, to where Grantaire's art professor was delighted to have it in the studio and to give Grantaire some credit to make up for his missed days of classes.

"I never knew that you liked art, Enjolras. I assumed you thought it distracting and vain." Grantaire led Enjolras out of the art department and back to his apartment.

"I do to a degree, but it's because I never thought about it being something that could show you true beauty or deeper meaning. I just saw a bundle of pretty colors and nothing more and I should apologize for that to you and all others out there who breathe life into their oils or other mediums."

"I'm touched." Grantaire offered Enjolras a smile and to his surprise got one in return.

"What do you regularly draw and paint?"

Ah shit. "It's embarrassing."

Enjolras widened his eyes. "You mean even more embarrassing than being drunk nearly every day and sleeping with lots of girls? You draw and paint things like _that?_"

"Good GOD no, Enjolras! Why would I invite a girl to my bedroom and then make her stay still so I could paint her? Wrong time and wrong place for trying to be arty and sophisticated. I thought you were supposed to be the innocent virgin of all of us."

"I was just trying to think of what you of all people could possibly find shameful to show me."

"It isn't shameful, per se. It's just something I would keep to myself. You'll see what it is once we're inside." Grantaire fished his keys out of his pockets and let Enjolras into his home. He lit the candles around the living room and handed Enjolras the pile of drawings of him and the other students. "I draw you and all of the other Friends of the ABC because you people are my family and I care about you and I know it's weird but you're the best art inspiration I have and my other stuff never looks as good because it doesn't have as much meaning behind it."

Enjolras sat down on the sofa and Grantaire collapsed beside him and whimpered as his head throbbed with a headache he'd been trying to ignore the whole day. Grantaire twitched as Enjolras looked at all of his sketches and the few small paintings he had of them. He didn't speak until he was halfway through the stack.

"I agree with Feuilly, you really should have shown us all of this long before now. You're wonderful at this, though you seem to have, if I may say so, a bit of an obsession with me. Is it the hair?"

Grantaire stared at Enjolras with astonishment and said, "You're acting very odd today. No it isn't the hair! Gorgeous, absolutely. It isn't even your face. Again, perfection that's made my professor ask me several times to drag you down to model for other students. It's not even your deep and fiery eyes that I stare at all day. It's just you. Enjolras. You could even have my hairdo and a bushy mustache and I'd drown in your beauty every day and have to come home to draw it out so my mind can function again."

Enjolras flushed and continued looking through the drawings. "You need to bring these next meeting and show everyone. It shows how much you care about them and everyone will want to see more of your art." Grantaire sighed and nodded and mentally shot down any argument he'd have against bringing them because he knew he'd lose.

The picture of Joly making a face at a spoon had gotten placed at the bottom of the stack when Grantaire was done and he'd forgotten about it in his worries about Enjolras seeing all of the pictures he made of him. Enjolras found it and a few barks of laughter rose up in his throat until he threw his head back and let it all out.

His laughter is as contagious as the passion in his speeches, only that his laughter is a rarity that is too often subdued by his work. Now though, the whole room rang with it and Grantaire joined in because he couldn't help it. Eventually it turned into one of those times when the original thing that had made someone laugh was no longer the source and the two of them fed off of each other's energy until Enjolras leaned over onto Grantaire and was choking and Grantaire was screaming and crying with mirth. They took another glance at the sketch and then each other and went through a full reprise of roars and chuckles.

"Okay," gasped Enjolras. "You HAVE to bring that and show it to Joly."

"If you insist." Grantaire giggled a bit more and wiped his eyes. "You know, that's the first time I've ever seen you laugh that hard. I need to draw it."

Enjolras held Grantaire around his waist to steady himself and he didn't let go even when he was upright. "I devote most of my focus to my work, but you've shown me how adding in some creativity and fun to the mix can help me without getting me completely off track or seeing the whole day go by. I feel better than I have all month. Before you draw me laughing though, I have a request."

"Anything for you."

"Draw yourself."

Grantaire groaned. "No, I said it before in the café. I never draw myself because I want to draw things I admire and want to look at."

"Exactly. You need to see the good in you and why we all care about you. By good I mean qualities of the heart, not just your talent."

"I don't have any. I'll probably be drunk by tomorrow knowing me."

"Why?" Enjolras turned so he still had an arm around Grantaire but was facing him. "Tell me why you're so sure you're going to have to reach for a bottle in the next twenty four hours."

"I don't want to. I'll probably sob all over you and sound pathetic."

"Come on." Enjolras rubbed Grantaire's back and got him to face Enjolras. "If this is so bad that you're drinking because of it I need to hear so I can help."

"You can't, but fine." Grantaire snuggled up to Enjolras and rested his head on Enjolras's shoulder. "As you know by now, I love you and all of our other friends more than I ever want people to know. I can't live without you. You people are my life and my heart needs you so much that I hate myself for it. I can see where this is going, Enjolras. If the revolution becomes violent, do you know how many fucking people are going to die? You know how many of us it'll be? At least one. Likely more. Imagine waking up in the morning knowing you're never going to see Joly again, that you're never going to see his smile or hear him ask what the ratio of red to green grapes you've eaten that week was or feel him playfully put his arm around you. What if it's Jehan? What if it's Courfeyrac and you'll never see Jehan smile again because of it? What if it's both of them? What if it's all three of them? What if it's you, the core light of my life and the inspiration for anything good I've tried to out my soul into? What if it's Combeferre?" Grantaire shook and felt tears welling up in his eyes. "Just to lose one of you would kill me, how do you think it feels to know I'm so close to losing every single one of you? I try to enjoy your company, I really do, but I dread the day you lead us all to revolution because somebody isn't going to make it home and no matter how much good it does if the people even rise up my life will never be the same. I have to drink in order not to break down all over you and now-now I'm doing it and I-I'm sorry." Grantaire buried his face into Enjolras's jacket and sobbed.

"I know how it feels Grantaire. I've been sealing myself off to my full feelings too. Everyone who is following me knows the risks and why we're doing what we are. I wish this burden had never been ours to bear, that the world would be fair and just all on its own. We have a duty not only to ourselves but to future generations to do what's right no matter the cost."

Enjolras gently cupped Grantaire's face and lifted his chin up so he could look directly at him. "I know that you understand me now after that painting you did, so even if you're scared you know why we're doing this. I hate to see you hurt. I hate to see anyone hurt who doesn't deserve it. I would like to ask you to do one thing, no matter how you do it. I want you to stay as sober as possible so you can enjoy our company and love while we have it. You're sober right now and it suits you well. You have a brilliant mind and a heart any man would wish to be close to. I just wish you could see it. You just proved to me and yourself how much love you have inside of you."

"You make it sound like it's something beautiful. All it is is pain."

"No, it's good because whether you like it or not you care, you give a damn about us. You've given your heart to us and you try not to show it when you should live to the fullest and show everyone what they mean to you. Don't numb yourself to what matters most. This hurts you because we matter, and you mean just as much to us. I don't think you've ever realized it, but you do. You may not be as invested in the cause as we are but that doesn't make you any less of a friend, Grantaire."

Grantaire hugged Enjolras and pressed him close against his body and said something that he never thought he'd say sober. "I love you."

"I love you too, Grantaire."

"No, I love you in the way that means I'll never have all of what I want."

"I know what you meant but you're wrong."

Enjolras kept a close hold on Grantaire and pushed him down onto his back on the couch cushions. "You're wrong because you don't think I want you too," he whispered.

Grantaire leaned his head against a pillow and enjoyed Enjolras's warm breath on his face. "If you really do, then why did you wait for so long to ever tell me?"

"You're almost always drunk. I thought you simply lusted after me."

"To call my love for you lust is insulting."

"How can you blame me? I could never tell if a word to pass from your lips was purely you or wine talking to me. Until now, that is." Enjolras pressed his lips against Grantaire's and felt Grantaire jump beneath him before his body heated up and he kissed back, focusing on being gentle with Enjolras and expressing more love than lust. His mouth kept up a slow but constant movement against Enjolras with light little sucks and a little bit on tongue so he could tease Enjolras and perhaps get him to allow more depth.

Much to Grantaire's disappointment, Enjolras pulled away after barely a minute.

"Hey, what's wrong?"

Enjolras held Grantaire's hands and pulled him up so he could sit beside him again. "You need to understand why I love you and why I kissed you, R. Make a self portrait."

"Ugh."

"You can't see yourself, not really. You think I'm so much higher up than you are but you're dead wrong. You're better than you give yourself credit for, especially in the absence of alcohol. I would not give my first kiss to the man you see, but I would wholeheartedly give it to my Grantaire. Look at yourself, really look from my eyes like you did with the marvelous painting you made. Get to know you the way I do. I'll be back here tomorrow with some work to do and some supplies so I can spend more time with you here, perhaps a few nights." Enjolras pecked Grantaire on the lips and stood to leave.

"I'll do it for you Enjolras. I'll find something to bring out inside of me."

"I know." Enjolras smiled but then turned mock serious, another new expression from him today.

"And Grantaire, don't you dare shave before you draw yourself. Your hair is perfect the way it is."


End file.
